


Moments of Regret

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen, Halloween, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-06-25
Updated: 1999-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-11 06:26:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11142738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: At a Halloween masquerade ball, Ben and Phil come face to face with a ghost from their pasts. This story is a sequel toThe Fine Line That Separates.





	Moments of Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

 

Hi everyone

Disclaimer: This story is written for the private entertainment of fans. The author makes no claims on the characters or their portrayal by the creation of this story. Fraser, Vecchio, et.al. belong to Alliance; the McKenzies and friends belong to me. No infringement of any copyrights held by CBS, Alliance, CTV, or any other copyright holders of DUE SOUTH is intended. This story is not published for profit, and the author does not give permission for this story to be reproduced for profit.

Rated PG (some mild swearing)

 

Moments of Regret

By SL Haas

(Copyright May 1997 Revised June 1999)

"P

lease, Flip? You know you'll enjoy it!"

"Enjoy it? TJ, you know how much I hate those things."

"True, true...I know." TJ McKenzie sighed. "But the fact still remains, I need a ‘date.' If it weren’t such an important event I wouldn't worry about it. But this is one of our biggest fund raisers and I wouldn't ask you but I **am** a curator and I **have** to be there and I don't **want** to go alone **because** Mrs. Silverstein is convinced that her daughter is just perfect for me as well as Sarah Cashly down in Acquisitions and Maria Sanchez in Prehistoric Art and..." His long-winded diatribe faltered as he saw the smirk on Phil's face. "Flip, if you loved me at all...you'd rescue me from these **women**. Please?" The desperation in his voice carried clearly to the woman across from him.

Phil grinned mischievously and bounced the racquetball. She swung her racquet and served the ball hard into the wall. 

TJ let it zoom past him and readied himself for his return. "Flip, please!" His racquet connected with the ball and sent it low to the wall. Phil countered with a diving lunge that sent the ball to the corner where it struck then died. TJ groaned and looked on in disgust as Phil did a victory dance. "Philippe Henry Sheridan McKenzie...you're a...you're a..." Words failed him.

"TJ! I'm surprised at you!" Phil stopped strutting and approached her brother. "I wouldn't be talking like that to me if you really wanted my help. And just when I was about to agree to go with you..."

"You're a saint...you're an angel...you're the most wonderful woman in the whole world..."

"Okay, okay, TJ, enough already. You **know** I don't believe a word you say," she answered indulgently.

"But you **will** go with me?" His voice was full of entreaty.

"Yes..." Her voice died away.

"Yes? That sounds like you're not sure."

Her eyes came up to study his face. "I said I would go with you, TJ, and you know I keep my word."

"I know, Flip. Why else would you still wear that ring about your neck?" Phil's hand instinctively sought the ring on the chain beneath her tank top. "I'm sorry, Flip. I didn't mean to bring up unpleasant memories for you."

Phil smiled at her brother. "They aren't **unpleasant,** TJ. My memories of Ben are happy, sad, wonderful, painful...so many things...but seldom unpleasant." A wistfulness entered her voice making it huskier than normal, "I really loved that man."

Lightly he fingered a loose tendril of hair on her cheek. "I know, Flip. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you two. I really liked Ben...and so did Rob."

"Well..." she shook herself, "that's neither here nor there. Ben's gone and I'll never see him again. I guess it's all for the best." She reached for her towel. "Now about that party...is it a masquerade party like last year?"

TJ watched Phil wipe the sweat from her face then arch her back in a languorous stretch. She reminded him of a sleek, well-fed cat. All that was missing was the purr. He nodded his head before answering her question. "The masquerade party was such a success last year that the museum decided to repeat it for this year. After all it **is** Halloween!"

Phil tossed the other towel to TJ before asking, "What's the theme this year? And don't tell me it's 'My Favorite Aborigine'! If it's something like that you can count me out!"

TJ grinned. Little did she know that something similar **had** been one of the more unappealing suggestions. No, this year was more to his liking...and to Phil's. "I think you'll be pleased with the theme for this year's party." He paused. Phil looked at him expectantly. "The theme is--drum-roll, please! The Civil War. We are hosting a Civil War era ball. What do you think of that?"

"A period ball?" The smile spread across her face. "That definitely sounds like fun!"

TJ nodded. "I thought I would go as my namesake: General 'Stonewall' Jackson and you could go as..."

Phil interrupted, "...as **my** namesake: Phil Sheridan. That's a great idea! And Rob can come as his namesake, Robert E. Lee!"

"Hold on, Flip." He leaned forward and dropped his voice. "I wasn't planning on you attending as Gen. Sheridan."

"Why not?" Her husky voice held a challenge.

"Well..." he stammered, "since I'm going as a Confederate general, I don't think it would look proper for me to be seen escorting a man--a Union general no less..."

"Wait a minute, TJ, if I'm going to go with you, I think I should be allowed to choose who I go as!" She smiled and inclined her head.

"Phhiillll....."

Eagerly, Phil paced away from him then wheeled back to face him. "No...hear me out, TJ. I could wear a kepi--stuff my hair up inside it. Then I could wear a little bitty mustache." She held her finger beneath her nose. "And I could wear skin-tight slacks with high-top cavalry boots. What do you think?"

TJ stared at his sister disbelief etched on his aquiline features. "I think you're crazy if you think I will let you go **anywhere** in skin-tight slacks and high-top boots--cavalry or otherwise!" he said, his tone coolly disapproving.

Phil laughed. "Why not?"

"Flip! You don't want to attract that kind of...uh...attention." 

Phil had never accepted the fact that her looks had blossomed as she'd grown older--just like he had told her when she was 15 years old. She was no longer the gangly tomboy but had matured into a slender, attractive young woman. That was the key word: attractive.

Phil rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. "TJ, I'm not a little girl anymore. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, Flip. I just don't want you to be hurt again." Not that she let anyone get close to her like Benton Fraser had; although there had been some close calls.

There was such a tender look of understanding in his eyes that Phil bit back her sharp retort. Instead she said, "I know that, TJ. But I can honestly say that my experiences with Ben taught me many things about relationships. I won't make that mistake again." She surprised him by slipping her arms around his waist. "If you weren't my brother, TJ, I'd marry you. Why do the two greatest men in the world have to be my brothers? Why couldn't you be some stranger I could fall in love with?"

TJ smiled down on his sister. He had asked himself that same question ever since his fiancée had died over 10 years ago. He dearly loved his sister and wished that he could meet someone like her. Framing her face with his hands, he lowered his face and kissed her forehead. "I guess we're just too picky to fall in love with just anybody."

Phil rested her cheek on his sweaty chest. TJ's arms wrapped around her slender form and he felt the movement of her head as she shook it. "No, that's not it at all. The real reason is because we both fell in love with the right person at the wrong time and now we can't get past that love." He felt the sigh and heard the whisper, "At least, that's what my problem is."

TJ nodded in understanding. True love rarely doled out a second chance. He hugged Phil again and kissed the top of her head as she raised her face to stare into his dark brown eyes. This is the way it had been for the past nine years. They had comforted each other when memories of their lost loves had threatened to overwhelm them. Their shared experiences had drawn them even closer together.

Four years earlier, it had been TJ that had suggested Phil move to Chicago and start her own business. She had made several trips back and forth from Colorado to Chicago to discuss her proposed venture with the museum where TJ worked. With their solid support behind her she had started BakTrak, Inc., where she developed field trips tailored for the needs of her clients. Her first client was the Field Museum. Her first field trip for them--an archaeological tour of the Four Corners area--had been a success. She now had several large clients and several smaller ones. Her tiny 'one-man' business had grown to the point that she'd hired her first employee--Jeff Bowers, an able office manager.

TJ grasped Phil's shoulders and held her at arms-length. "So...about the ball...I simply refuse to escort a Yankee general to the ball."

"But, TJ..." 

He held up a hand to silence her. "No, Flip, here me out! Why don't you go as Belle Boyd?"

"Belle Boyd?" Phil searched her memory and slowly a sly smile spread across her face. "Belle Boyd the spy? That sounds intriguing." She chewed on her lip and her eyes took on a faraway cast. "Belle Boyd..." Phil stroked her chin. "I'd need a ballgown and hoops and..." her voice trailed off as she planned her costume.

Grinning, TJ hugged Phil again. He had won this round. He would not attend the masquerade ball on the arm of a Union general but **would** escort the renowned Confederate spy to the museum fundraiser on Halloween.

* * *

"Ray, I really do not want to attend this party!" Benton Fraser sighed with exasperation. Ray just wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Of course you do, Benny! You just don't know you do," Ray countered. There was no way he was going to let his best friend talk himself out of going to the masquerade party at the museum. If **he** had to dress up in one of those silly costumes so could Fraser. Ray held out the costume that he had scoured the city to find. "Here, try this on. The man at the costume store swore that this was an authentic reproduction of a Canadian cavalry uniform circa 1860. If you asked me, it doesn't look much different from the one you wear now!"

"On the contrary, Ray. There are many distinct differences between this antique uniform and the modern dress uniform worn by the RCMP." Fraser took the uniform from Ray and proceeded to outline in detail the many small differences between the two uniforms. Ray simply smiled and tuned out the bigger part of the discussion. "Ray? Ray?"

"Huh...what Benny?" Ray's head jerked up in surprise.

"You didn't hear a word I said, did you?" His voice was mildly sarcastic.

"I most certainly did! I just didn't hear every single one." Ray hastily muttered. "Now...try it on so's I can see if it fits. I hope it does...that's the only one he had. You know, there's not much demand for ancient Mountie uniforms."

Ben reluctantly stripped his brown uniform off and slipped into the costume provided by Ray. The uniform fit as if it had been tailored for him. He adjusted the tunic then turned for Ray's inspection.

"How do you do it, Fraser?" he asked with a twinge of envy.

"Do what, Ray?"

"Look like you do in that getup?"

"Hmmm?" Ben caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the back of his closet door. He studied his image searching for whatever it was Ray was talking about.

Ray shook his head in disgust. "You know what I mean! You'd probably look good dressed like the Tooth Fairy!" 

"I'm afraid that is one costume I will **not** wear!" Ray laughed at the determination in Ben's voice. "What's in the other garment bag?" Ben inquired.

Ray grinned, his hazel eyes flashing with humor. "That's **my** costume. Since this is a Civil War ball, I'm dressing as a Zouave soldier."

"Hmmm..."

"Fraser! You know how much I hate it when you do that!"

"Do what, Ray?" Ben gazed innocently at his friend.

"Hmmm..." Ray glared at the Mountie.

"Uh, sorry Ray but...ah...do you know what a Zouave soldier was?" He nervously ran a finger around the neck of his costume.

"Not exactly, Benny, but the guy at the costume shop assured me that they were an important part of the war." His voice edged up in a question.

Ben cleared his throat finding it suddenly dry. "Oh, that they were, Ray. Have you looked at your costume?"

"Uh...no. Should I have?" Ray's eyebrows rose.

Ben bit his lower lip then decided that some clarification was needed. "Zouave soldiers were regular soldiers...however..."

Ray motioned with his hand. "However...what? Spit it out!" Honestly, getting information out of Ben was as bad as pulling teeth. He was unprepared for the Mountie's next words.

"Ray, their uniforms were among the most elaborate ones seen during the early stages of the war." 

"Elaborate? What the hell does that mean?" 

"Maybe elaborate was the wrong word." Ben searched his wide vocabulary for the appropriate word. He hesitated when the right word finally presented itself. He glanced at Ray's expectant face. "Ah...it's not important, Ray."

"No you don't, Benny. You started this, now finish it! What's wrong with this uniform?"

"There's nothing wrong with it. In fact, I haven't even seen it. Have you?" Ben tugged slightly on his left earlobe.

"Uh...no. I didn't have time to try it on. I was in a hurry and that's all they said they had left..." he paused and gave Ben a worried look, "Am I gonna regret this?"

"Maybe you should try it on now, Ray."

Ray shrugged out of his suit and pulled the costume out of its bag. "For the love of…" He held up a pair of bright red bloomers. "What in the world are these?" 

Ben stared at the garment, swallowed twice, then murmured, "I believe those are your trousers, Ray."

Ray's eyes widened, "My what?"

"Your trousers." The finger made the circuit of the collar once more.

"You mean **this** is part of my costume and **not** a mistake?" Ray's voice rose an octave.

Ben's eyes were anywhere but on Ray. "I believe those are regulation Zouave trousers."

Ray stared in horror at the red bloomers--the bright red bloomers. "No way! These are bloomers **not** trousers! No real soldier would be caught dead wearing bloomers like these."

"On the contrary, Ray. There were many units during the Civil War that utilized the Zouave uniform." 

"Well, there's no way in hell that I'll be caught dead wearing bloomers--especially **red** bloomers!" Indignantly Ray tossed the offending garment back on Ben's bed.

Ben was beginning to enjoy Ray's discomfiture. "Actually, Ray, both the Confederate and Union Zouaves modeled their uniforms after North Africa's French colonial army, known for its baggy trousers, brilliantly colored uniforms, and distinctive fezzes and turbans."

"Fezzes and turbans? Man, I don't even want to know what those are!" Ray strode over to the table and sat down in one of the chairs.

Although no smile reached his lips, Ben's eyes had a definite twinkle in them as he dug through the garment bag and pulled out a cylindrical hat. "Your fez, Ray."

"Are you laughing at me, Fraser? ‘Cause if you are..."

"No, Ray. I would never laugh at you." Although at that moment, Ben came closer to doing just that than he had ever been. 

Ray glared at him suspecting that very thing.

Ben cleared his throat, he couldn't believe how fate had worked in his favor. There was no way Ray would wear the costume and if he didn't... 

"It's too late to exchange the costume, Ray. If you do **not** wear it, then I'm not going. And since I didn't want to go in the first place..." With a hint of satisfaction, Ben allowed his voice to fade.

Burying his face in his hands, Ray knew he was trapped. Why didn't he check the costume before he rented it? Why did he believe that little weasel of a clerk? Why didn't he take that little extra time instead of hurrying back to catch Fraser? _'Cause Benny needs to get out of this dumpy apartment and enjoy life,'_ he answered his own question. 

Benny was new in town and needed to meet some people--women--other than his sister Frannie (he wouldn't wish **her** on anyone) and some of the other women they had run into (McKenzie King came to mind). Benny might meet someone nice at the fundraiser for the museum. That's why he, Ray Vecchio, was stuck with a sissy outfit for the masquerade ball. He groaned, rose from the table, and reached for the red trousers. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled them on. "If you laugh or make one snide remark about this outfit **I will shoot** you. Do you understand me?"

"You're just being silly, Ray! Why would I laugh at you?" No sense in letting Ray know just how close he was to doing that very thing! He watched as Ray slipped into the shirt with its large sleeves. 

"May I say that you cut quite a...uh..." Ben's brow furrowed with his concentration, "uh...dashing--yes, that's it--quite a dashing figure." His eyes examined the brightly clad form of his friend. He watched Ray slip his arms into a bright blue Zouave jacket. He clinched his lips when Ray settled the fez on his head. The look of resignation Ray sent him was classic. Ben smiled to himself. If Ray was willing to wear that outfit, then he could accompany him to the masquerade party at the museum. After all, that's what friends were for.

"Here's your mask, Fraser. Be sure to wear it **all the time**!" Ray slipped his own over his face. "If no one recognizes you then they won't recognize me. If anyone recognizes **you** there'll be hell to pay!"

"Then...I can't use my name?" Ben slipped the simple black mask over his face.

"NO! Definitely not. Make up a name! I don't care who you are but, for tonight, you are **not** Benton Fraser. Understand?"

"Understood."

* * *

Ben stared at the woman across the room from him. He had noticed her earlier in the evening when the dancing started. She was lovely in her emerald green gown as she clung to the arm of the distinguished looking Confederate general. He watched her every move as the Grand March proceeded. She and her partner were obviously familiar with the dance. Why did this particular woman claim his attention? There were many beautiful women in equally beautiful dresses. There was something about her that was vaguely familiar. What was it?

"Why don't you ask her for a dance?" Ray inclined his head toward the woman in green. "You've been staring at her all evening."

Ben guiltily swung around to face Ray. "Who are you talking about? I don't recall staring at anyone in particular."

Ray grinned and motioned with his head. "The woman in green."

"Which woman in green?" There was no way he was going to let Ray know that he had guessed right. "There are several women in green."

"Yeah, but you've only had eyes for **that** one. And don't pretend you don't know who I mean. You're turning as red as that outfit, Benny!" Anyone with eyes could see the blush that colored the face behind the Mountie's mask.

"I really don't know who you're talking about, **Ray**!" Darn, but he wished he could stop blushing like a schoolgirl! "And...I thought I was supposed to be someone else this evening!" He tried to change the subject of the conversation.

Sighing in exasperation, Ray snarled, "Well, **Sam** , if you won't dance with her--I will!" And suiting action to words, Ray threaded his way through the throng of people and approached the woman in green.

Ben watched Ray introduce himself, saw the woman smile at him, and watched the couple stroll out onto the dance floor. He watched Ray take the woman in green into his arms and begin to waltz. He watched as the couple neared him and unconsciously moved closer to the dance floor.

Ray grinned at Ben as he waltzed past the Mountie. He whispered something in the ear of his partner and she laughed--a low and slightly husky laugh. Ray swung her around and Ben caught a glimpse of her face. It was partially covered by a mask of black and green feathers. A crooked smile graced her lips. Why did his stomach suddenly develop a knot in it?

* * *

Phil was having a wonderful time. She was glad that she had allowed TJ to talk her into attending the ball with him. 

"Now remember, Flip, just for tonight, you are **not** my sister. If those 'ladies' found out that I was escorting my sister to this event I would never hear the end of it!" TJ's voice lowered conspiratorially.

Phil chuckled, then patted his arm in sympathy. "I'm sorry that women fall all over you, TJ. But it really **is** your fault."

Aghast, TJ asked, "What do you mean by that? I swear I do **not** encourage their advances in anyway!"

"TJ...look at you. You are probably one of the handsomest men around. Women are going to throw themselves at you regardless of whether or not you encourage them. They can't help it!" She smiled wistfully, her voice lowering, "Ben was like that, too. He just couldn't understand why women acted the way they did. He told me that the only way he could deal with their attentions was to politely ignore them. I always thought it was rather endearing..." her voice trailed off as she saw the look of sympathy on her brother's face. "I'm sorry, TJ. It's just that sometimes you remind me of Ben." 

TJ nodded his head in understanding. He took Phil's hand in his, placed a kiss on the back of it, and asked, "Would you care to join me in the Grand March, Miss Boyd?"

Phil snapped her fan open, batted her eyelashes, and, as she coyly fanned herself, replied, "My word, Gen. Jackson! I thought you would never ask!" She placed her hand on TJ's proffered arm and they joined the other couples lining up for the March.

It was during the second round of the March that Phil noticed the mismatched couple. It wasn't so much that they were different, it was just that they **were** different. One of the two men was dressed in a costume that looked suspiciously like a Mountie uniform and the other man was dressed in a bright red and blue Zouave uniform. They both cut handsome figures and more than one female head turned to watch them. 

The Mountie stirred something buried deeply in her heart. She mentally shook herself. _'What in the world are you thinking, Phil? He's just dressed like a Mountie. Just because he reminds you of someone...'_ Still the sight of the Mountie brought back memories of Ben and the love they had shared. At least the memories only generated a dull ache and not the consuming pain she had experienced during the first few years. She could actually think about Benton Fraser and not turn into a weeping mess. She was even able to recall Lindy and not fall apart. She still missed them both, but life went on and she had learned to live without either the man she had loved or the daughter she had lost. She smiled up into the face of her older brother. "Thank you, TJ."

Turning a puzzled smile of his own on his kid sister, TJ queried, "For what, Flip?"

"For being who you are. I love you."

TJ smiled one of his dazzling smiles and leaned his face down to kiss Phil's cheek. The feathers on her mask halted his progress. Disgustedly, he said, "Flip, that mask suits your costume perfectly but it makes it damn hard to kiss you!"

"Exactly, Gen. Jackson!" She rapped him gently with her fan. "I'll have you to know, I'm not that sort of woman! I don't accept kisses from just anyone!" The shared laugh and the obvious affection of the couple did not go unnoticed by the Mountie who watched their every move.

Sweeping her eyes about the room, Phil easily located the Mountie and the Zouave soldier. The Mountie politely listened to a couple of women who were engaged in an animated conversation. The Zouave danced with a woman in a bright yellow dress. They were a very colorful couple, but Phil's eyes were drawn back to the Mountie. A shiver coursed down her spine as her eyes locked with his. She couldn't be sure because of the mask, but she thought that his eyes were blue. _'A blue-eyed Mountie is all I need right now!'_ she thought in disgust and turned to accept the dance invitation from Gen. Robert E. Lee.

"Rob, you made it after all! Where's Beth?" Phil smiled, her white teeth showing beneath the feathers of her mask.

Rob whirled his sister into place for the Virginia Reel. He motioned with his head to the end of the line where TJ was talking with Rob's wife. "They make a lovely couple, Gen. Lee, don't you think?" Phil loved the sparring matches she had with her brothers.

Rob glared down at his sister. "Just what are you up to, Flip?" 

Phil rapped his arm smartly with her fan. "That's Miss Belle Boyd to you, kind sir!" She batted her eyes and smiled at him.

Rob smiled indulgently. "Belle Boyd? That's right! You're TJ's date for the evening aren't you? You know you shouldn't let him use you like this."

"I know, Rob, but I understand how he feels. He's just not interested in becoming involved with anyone right now." Her eyes sought the Mountie and she sighed. "Can we help it if you're the only McKenzie that's had any luck with _'affairs of the heart'_?"

Rob followed her glance and saw the Mountie. "Still pining for Ben?"

Phil turned wiser eyes to him. "No, I just have moments of regret. That's all." She smiled and moved across from him to begin the Reel.

Throughout the evening, Phil was ever conscious of the Mountie. Whenever she caught a glimpse of him, he seemed to be watching her. Or was it just her imagination? She wasn't sure, but she thought she could feel his eyes on her wherever she went. Yet she found herself looking for him. She noticed how, although the Zouave danced frequently, the Mountie seemed content to watch the dancers on the floor. She also knew from the talk of the women around her that he was the object of much speculation and some serious plotting. She found herself wondering about the apparent isolation of the man. Why had he attended the party if he wasn't going to join in the activities? 

She shook herself as she realized that she had spent the last several minutes staring at the man across the room. She was disconcerted to realize that he had stared back. Her eyes locked with his and her heart beat faster. She hadn't felt this giddy since, well...in a long time. She broke eye contact with the Mountie as Rob claimed her for another dance. As she strolled out onto the floor she knew to the very core of her being that she wanted to dance with the Mountie. Maybe it was because he reminded her of Ben; whatever it was she also knew that it was highly unlikely that he'd ask her to dance. It didn't appear that he was the dancing kind. Oh well, it couldn't be Ben anyway and she experience a momentary pang of regret.

Determined to remove the Mountie from her mind, Phil danced with her brothers and several other gentlemen that ventured an invitation. She concentrated on her partners and ceased searching for the eyes that seemed to follow her.

"Excuse me, Ma'am. Might I have the pleasure of this dance?" Ray held his breath as the woman in green turned to him. She looked even better up close and personal. No wonder Benny was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of her. Ray's eyes moved downward from the black and green feathered mask noticing the lopsided smile she wore so easily. His eyes trailed further south definitely enjoying the view the low-cut ballgown provided.

Phil, in turn, regarded the source of the invitation. The Zouave soldier in his brilliant costume bowed slightly and offered his arm. _'Hmmm, no wonder all those women were lining up for him,'_ she thought. Intrigued, she placed her hand on his arm and walked with him onto the dance floor. The music began and the Zouave swept her into his arms and led her in a majestic waltz. Phil followed his lead around the floor.

"May I say you look ravishing tonight?" Ray grinned at the woman in green.

"You may, kind sir. However, I think I should warn you that my escort might not look favorably on you saying that." She smiled at Ray.

"And who might your escort be?" Ray asked.

"General 'Stonewall' Jackson, of course!"

"Of course!...and that would make you...?" Ray queried.

"Belle Boyd, notorious Confederate spy," she lowered her voice, being purposefully mysterious.

"Of course..." As if that told him anything.

"And just who might you be?" Phil was just as curious as the Zouave.

"Well, I'm neither a notorious spy nor a general," Ray answered with just a touch of bravado in his voice.

Phil liked his manner and his dancing wasn't half bad either. "If you're not a spy and not a general, are you a Yankee?"

Ray was enjoying the banter with the woman in green. He noticed that they were nearing Ben. He watched Ben inch closer to the dance floor. _'I knew he was interested in her! Why won't he admit to some normal male drives?'_ Ray thought as he grinned at Ben. He leaned closer to Belle, "You found me out!" He sighed melodramatically and whispered in her ear, "I'm a damn Yankee."

Phil's low and husky laugh pleased Ray. He liked a woman who laughed real laughter. He couldn't abide gigglers or titterers. No, he preferred real laughter. He swung her around and almost collided with Ben. Only his skillful lead and Ben's timely withdrawal prevented Belle from bouncing off the Mountie.

Phil did not notice her close call with the man who had captured her attention earlier. All of her attention was on her current partner. "So...Mr. Damn Yankee, do you have a name? Or should I just call you 'Mr. Damn Yankee'?"

Ray chuckled, strangely flattered by her interest. "No, as much as I enjoy the way you say that, I don't think I would like for others to hear you call me that." Especially not Benny. Thoughts of his friend prompted his continued remarks, "You know...I really hadn't thought of a name to use. I made my friend swear to use an alias and forgot all about using one myself." He smiled at the rich brown eyes peering at him from the green and black feathered masked. "Could you suggest a name for me?"

Phil closed her eyes and rifled through her knowledge of the Civil War. She smiled when a name popped into her mind. Running her tongue across her lower lip, she offered, "How about Elmer Ellsworth?"

"Elmer Ellsworth? You've gotta be kidding!" That had to be one of the ugliest names he had ever heard.

"Actually, I'm perfectly serious. You're dressed as a Zouave. Why not **be** the most famous Zouave soldier of the war?" There was a trace of laughter in her voice.

"Famous? Elmer Ellsworth is for real?" Behind the safety of his mask, Ray's eyes widened.

When she spoke again, her voice was warm. "Ellsworth worked in Abraham Lincoln's law office when the war started. He organized a Zouave regiment of New York City firemen. He was also the first Union officer casualty."

"Really? How did he die?" Just wait till he got back to Benny--would he have a story to tell him!

"Ellsworth tore down the Confederate flag that hung over the Marshall House in Alexandria, VA. The owner of the House was so incensed that he shot and killed him." 

"Elmer Ellsworth...hmmm...I guess I could use that name for the evening. I just wish it wasn't so **ugly**!" Ray screwed up his mouth in distaste.

Phil grinned, she enjoyed the Zouave's company. "I think that name suits you." 

"Are you implying that I'm as ugly as that name is?" Ray curled his lip into a pout.

Phil chuckled again, a devilish gleam entering her eyes. "Not at all--more along the lines of dashing and daring." She graced him with one of her crooked smiles.

Dashing and daring? Ray's image of himself skyrocketed. He could live with that. He glanced back at Ben. Ben's eyes drilled into him. Ray was enjoying himself and Belle was turning out to be an interesting person. With a small start, he realized he would like to know the woman behind the mask. The music ended and Ray bowed over Belle's hand. "I have enjoyed our dance together, Miss Belle. Do you think I could steal you away from your General for another dance later this evening?"

Mischievously, Phil grinned at him; she definitely liked this man. Fanning herself with her fan, she replied conspiratorially, "I think that can be arranged, Mr. Ellsworth!"

"Call me Elmer." Ray bent over her hand and kissed it gently.

Phil shook her head and Ray could see the twinkle in her eye. "Elmer." 

Ray watched her head turn to regard the dark headed Confederate general-- _' **Her** General,'_ he thought—who strolled up beside them.

"I believe this is my dance, Miss Belle." TJ extended his arm.

"I've enjoyed our dance, Elmer, and I'll be sure to save a dance for you on my card." Phil curtsied and glided away from a bemused Ray. His eyes followed her as she moved away on the arm of the tall dark haired man in Confederate grey.

"How was your dance, Ray?" Ben stopped beside his friend and watched the woman in green move away from them.

"Huh? Oh, Fraser...I mean Sam..." His eyes strayed back to Belle. "Call me Elmer."

"Elmer?" Ben tugged on his left earlobe.

"Yes, Elmer. Belle..." Ray nodded toward Phil, "...suggested that name."

"Would that happen to be Elmer Ellsworth?" Ray rounded on him and Ben could tell, even behind the mask, that Ray's eyes had widened considerably.

"Now, how did you know that?" Ray was thunderstruck. How in the world did Fraser know about Ellsworth? Did the man know everything? How did he know about this? "I give up Ben...er...Sam! Did you read an encyclopedia as a child? I bet you cut your eyeteeth on volume K for know-it-all!"

"Now, Ray...Elmer, that's just silly. I am simply familiar with the Civil War period. A close friend of mine came from a line of Civil War historians and..." Ben's voice trailed off.

"Yeah, yeah, you spent time together rehashing every little battle and every little detail." Ray threw up his hands and turned away.

"Actually..." Ben's mind drifted back ten years to a summer in Colorado, "we didn't discuss it that much." Which was true, he and Phil and TJ had discussed the McKenzie names and he had learned of their father's obsession with that period of time.

Philippe Henry Sheridan McKenzie...the images that name provided were sweet and enticing and he would have loved to lose himself in them...but this wasn't the time nor the place. Now why did he suddenly think of Phil? His eyes strayed to the woman in green as she danced with the dark-headed general. He stared intently at the couple. Phil? TJ? No it couldn't be. Could it? He was called back to the present when Ray nudged his arm. "I'm sorry. Could you repeat your question?"

"Benny!?!"

"That's Sam Steele, Elmer. You were the one that suggested I assume an alias while I was here. Why are you not using it?" His eyes strayed to the dancing couple.

"I'm sorry, Sam. It's just that you drive me to distraction sometimes and..."

"I'm sorry, Elmer." His eyes returned to regard Ray.

"Stop that! Stop apologizing for everything!"

"I'm sorry..." Ben's voice trailed off as he read the signal in Ray's eyes. He held up his hands in surrender.

Ray smiled in satisfaction and nodded. "I asked you if you were going to dance with Belle?"

"Belle?"

"The woman in green...you know...the one I just danced with?"

"Her name is Belle?"

"Belle Boyd...she said she was a spy."

"Ah, that would explain the familiarity of the name." But that did little to explain the familiarity of the woman herself. What was it about her that tickled his memory? His eyes strayed back to the woman in green.

"You mean to tell me you know all about Belle Boyd, too?"

"Oh no, Elmer. I don't know **everything** about her."

"That's good...because I would hate to think you knew more about that young lady than I did. She seems like a real interesting person--one I'd like to know better." There was a hint of something in his voice.

Ben's attention returned to his friend. "Better? As in Belle Boyd, the spy? Or as someone else in the real light of day?"

"Both, I think." They both turned to watch Phil dance by them on the arm of General Jackson. She smiled at Ray but her eyes were on Ben. Even after they had danced past, Phil's eyes returned to the two men watching her.

Ben watched Belle dance past them and debated about asking the woman in green for a dance. There was something familiar about her, something that touched a part of him that had been long suppressed. A cold shiver played up and down his spine. He paused...why was he reluctant to dance with the woman? Was he afraid she might be someone he knew? Or was he afraid she might be a **particular** someone he had known? Someone with brown eyes, a crooked smile, and husky laughter--someone he had once loved--someone he had forsaken for Victoria?

He would never know if he didn't get up the courage to ask her for a dance. As the music ended, he made up his mind and strode purposefully across the floor nearing the woman he had watched all evening. 

Ray smiled as he watched Ben negotiate the dance floor. There were several close calls as various women tried to forestall his forward progress. But, each time, Ben eluded the snares set for him. _'How does he do it?'_ Ray wondered, not for the first time.

Phil gratefully accepted the cup of punch from TJ. She joined Beth near a large window. 

Beth leaned closer and in her soft, silky voice, said, "I think you're about to be asked for another dance, Phil." 

"I hope not, Beth. My feet are getting tired. Let's find some place where we can sit down!" Phil glanced around searching for a chair or a sofa.

Beth refused to move. Her attention centered on the man advancing on their position. There was determination in his stride. As much as Phil might protest, Beth had the feeling that she **would** dance with this man. There was something about him that said he would not be put off.

The man stopped a few steps behind Phil. He cleared his throat. Phil sighed and turned to face him. She gazed up into the blue eyes behind the Mountie's mask. 

"Would you grant me the favor of this dance, Miss Boyd?" He bent over her hand.

There was something familiar about the clear tones of his voice. _'That's silly, Phil. He's just dressed like a Mountie. He doesn't **really** sound like Ben. Stop this or you're going to ruin your evening!'_ Even as she thought those thoughts she accepted his arm and was led to the dance floor. Heart beating rapidly, Phil suddenly hoped for a fast dance--something quick and lively that would keep her away from this man.

Ben placed his hand over the hand on his arm. He watched the fan move back and forth, creating a gentle breeze. His heart skipped a beat when Belle turned a wary eye to him. His heart rate quickened. He suddenly hoped that the music would be soft and slow. A waltz--he wanted to hold the woman in green in his arms--something slow and sensual.

It was Ben's hopes that were answered as the strains of a waltz floated across the floor to the couple. Belle sighed and placed her hand on his shoulder as Sam slid his hand around to the small of her back, his free hand grasping hers. Together they glided across the floor. Not a word was spoken between the two. The distance separating their bodies was a gulf that neither was quite willing to close, yet.

__

'This is ridiculous!' Phil thought and made the first overture. "I'm Belle Boyd, notorious Confederate spy. And who might you be?"

Ben smiled down at the face behind the green and black feathers. The voice was low and slightly husky, just as he had imagined it would be. "Sam Steele, Ma'am."

Phil sighed. At least it hadn't been Ben Steele. 

Ben smiled when he caught the sigh. The dance continued and slowly the distance separating them lessened until they were truly in each other’s arms. Ben held Belle close and whispered in her ear, "I've wanted to do this all evening."

Phil turned her face to Sam. As his lips slid across her forehead, liquid fire shimmered down her spine. "I've wanted it, too." She couldn't lie to him anymore than she could lie to herself. She closed her eyes, momentarily letting her mind pull up the image of Ben. She could so easily believe that she was dancing with Ben, being held once more in his arms. She inhaled the scent of the man--soap and Old Spice. Damn! He even smelled like Ben. She opened her eyes and stared up into the blue eyes behind the mask worn by the Mountie. She was surprised by the sadness in his eyes

and knew that he saw the same thing in hers. Too many things were said by his eyes that she found her own answering. She turned her face away and laid her cheek against his shoulder.

Belle's face turning toward his brought his lips in contact with her forehead. He let them trail across the soft skin stopping short of actually kissing her. He couldn't believe it! He actually wanted to kiss this unknown woman. Why? Her low and husky voice evoked the buried memory of a woman he had loved and lost so many years ago. He carefully sought those memories. Maybe that would explain his attraction to this woman. Belle lifted her face and gazed into his eyes. He stared into the depths of her coffee-brown ones and read an infinite sadness there. He knew that sadness was mirrored in his eyes. Had she lost her love also? As he had lost Phil's love?

Phil?

He buried his face in her hair as Belle turned her cheek to his shoulder. Phil? Shock pulsed through him. **Could** this be Phil? That would explain his attraction to this woman. He inhaled deeply anticipating lavender, but was met with lilacs. He sighed, lilacs not lavender. The letdown was almost physical. What would he have done if it had been lavender? If only it had been lavender...Ben closed his eyes and, for the moment, held Phil in his arms once more. But the moment ended as the music ended and the woman in green dropped her hand from his shoulder and smiled crookedly at him.

"Thank you kindly for the dance, Mr. Steele," Phil said it quickly before she had the chance to blurt out the name she wanted to say. But, Ben was somewhere in Canada, not here in Chicago and she really didn't want to see him again anyway. It's just that sometimes she had these regrets and they surfaced at the most inappropriate moments--like right now. 

"It has been my distinct pleasure, Miss Boyd," Ben answered just as quickly. He stared intently into the eyes behind the green and black mask, seeing the awareness of him in their depths. _'If only you were my Phil. If only...'_ But Phil was in Colorado, not here in Chicago and she probably wouldn't want to see him anyway. No, he had made his choice. He loved Victoria. But...it was at times like these that the regret over his decision so many years ago surfaced.

"If you'll excuse me, Mr. Steele, I believe my Generalis looking for me." Phil smiled once more at the Mountie and slipped away from him into the crowd. She sought refuge in the ladies room where she leaned against the wall and stared at the ceiling. Memories of Ben flooded over her and she futilely fought to keep the tears at bay. Her hand strayed to the bodice of her gown where the ring lay nestled in her undergarments.

Beth found her there. "Phil, what is it? What happened?" She quickly drew her into her arms. "What is it, Phil?"

Phil swallowed and accepted the hug and gentle concern of her sister-in-law. "It's nothing really, Beth. I met a man that reminded me of Ben."

"I know. I watched you dance with him. I think everyone saw you dancing with him. You made quite a striking couple." Beth rested a hand on Phil's arm.

Phil's short laugh verged on being a sob. "Why did he have to be here? Why did he have to remind me of Ben?"

Beth held Phil close, and stroked the back of her neck, "I'm so sorry, Phil. I had a feeling that you were more aware of him than you were letting on. I guess that's why I followed you in here."

Phil shrugged off Beth's embrace and wandered over to gaze into a mirror. "I know it's silly, Beth, but he really got to me. I worked through my feelings for Ben long ago, but, tonight..."

Beth followed Phil to the mirror and stopped behind her, her worried eyes locked with Phil's in the mirror. "Tonight, you've had a wonderful time and made quite an impression on many a young buck including a man who reminded you of someone special. Don't let it be anything more than it is, Phil. Do you know who this man is in real life?"

"No..." Phil turned to face Beth.

Beth took her lace handkerchief and wiped the traces of the tears from Phil's cheek. "Well, then, he's probably a banker or an accountant or an insurance salesman or, better yet, a doctor!"

Phil chuckled despite her feelings. "Perish the thought! A doctor? No one in their right mind would ever become involved with a doctor."

Beth placed her hands on her hips, and asked, "Are you insinuating that I'm not in my right mind?"

"I don't know, Beth. I was stuck with Rob by birth. You're the one who chose to marry him! Now just look at you!"

Beth patted the slight rounding of her stomach. "I know, and I'm glad that I did. If that makes me a little bit crazy...then, so be it! Anyway, as I see it, the whole McKenzie clan is slightly crazy--so I fit in just fine!"

Phil hugged her sister-in-law. Yes, Beth fit right in. She was glad that Rob had married such a wonderful woman. At least one of the McKenzie siblings was happy. "I think I'll call it a night, Beth. Do you think TJ is ready to go? I don't want to pull him away...maybe I can get a cab."

"Nonsense, Phil, I'm ready to leave, too. You know how being pregnant tends to wear a body out!" Phil nodded. "Let's hunt up your brothers and let them know that **we** are ready to go home!"

"Thanks, Beth."

Beth smiled at Phil and gave her another hug. She knew all about Phil's aborted love and would do anything she could to help her. It was just too bad that Phil couldn't get past that guy from her past.

* * *

Ben watched Belle disappear into the crowd of people. Ray found him staring in the direction Belle had gone. "That was some dance, Sam!"

Ben focused his eyes on Ray. "Yes, it was." His eyes strayed back to search for Belle.

Ray rocked back on his toes, this was getting better and better. "So...did you find out who she was?"

"Belle Boyd, Confederate spy," Ben replied without inflection.

Ray replied with heavy irony in his voice, "I already knew that! Did she give you her real name?" 

Ben wasn't paying attention to Ray's questions; his attention followed the woman in green. He couldn't let her walk out of his life just like that. Something told him he needed to see the woman again--needed to talk to her about the sadness in her eyes. If only she had been Phil...

"I'm sorry, Ray. I...I uh...I...I need to find her..." Confusion clouded the expressive eyes he turned to his friend. He opened his mouth to explain, thought better of it, and abruptly left Ray's side.

A huge grin stole across Ray's face. "So, he really does have normal male urges. Way to go, Benny! Way to go!"

Half an hour later, Ray found Ben standing alone near the door. "Did you find her? What happened?"

Ben lowered his head. "No, Ray." He gently bit his lower lip. "I didn't find her." A long slow breath flowed from his lungs. "She disappeared. Even the general she was with is gone. No one seems to know who she was." Painful loneliness echoed hollowly in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Benny. You want I should subpoena the guest list? Maybe we could figure out who she was." Ray was sorry that the mystery woman had disappeared so completely and left his friend in the state he was in.

Ben turned to regard his friend. "No, that won't be necessary, Ray. She couldn't have been who I thought she was."

Ray, in turn, regarded his friend, the question plain on his face. "Who did you think she was?" 

"Someone I once knew...a long time ago." Ben mentally shook himself. No, he would not discuss Phil with Ray. After all he loved Victoria more. He left Phil for Victoria. It's just that occasionally regrets arose. 

Ray watched the faint expressions flit across Ben's face. With continued close contact and their developing friendship, Ray finally could read the expressions on Ben's

face. What he saw there surprised him--longing, sadness, and hunger. He placed a hand on Ben's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He could tell that the evening was over for Ben. If they didn't leave now, he knew that Ben would hide himself in some inconspicuous spot for the rest of the evening. No, he wouldn't let this evening end with his friend partnered by some potted plant. 

"You ready to go, Fraser? I've had it with these bloomers!" The two men smiled at each other grateful for such a good friend.

* * *

Phil downed the last of the hot chocolate and placed the cup in the sink. She was too tired to rinse it out now and it could wait until morning. She sighed and turned her back on the sink. Leaning against it, she hugged herself and wasn't surprised when a lone tear edged down her cheek. Damn! Why did that guy have to be there and why did he have to dress like a Mountie? Didn't she have enough problems to deal with without having to deal with **those** feelings again? She shook herself and headed to the bathroom.

The shower felt good. The hot water eased the aching in her shoulders. Who would have thought that dancing could be so stressful? She reached for the shampoo and lathered her short hair. It was so much easier to take care of than when she had let it grow long for Ben. She closed her eyes and rinsed the shampoo from her hair. She missed the lavender scented shampoo she had used for so many years. The first year or so here in Chicago, she had looked for a source of lavender shampoo, but everywhere she went the clerks looked at her like she was from a different planet. Why would anyone want shampoo that smelled like little old ladies? She had finally given up and tried a variety of shampoos, settling on lilac. _'At least it's purple!'_ she thought. Ben had once told her he would always associate lavender with her. Well, times changed and the familiar was often replaced with something new. 

Phil slicked her hair back and reached for her towel. She dried herself quickly and, wrapping the towel around her body, she headed for her bedroom. She dug through her lingerie drawer and withdrew a gown. She slipped it over her head and luxuriated in the feel of the silk against her skin. She stared at her reflection in the mirror not satisfied with what she saw. She opened the drawer once more and reached for the pair of flannel boxers and T-shirt that had lain under the gown--not as sexy as the gown but infinitely more familiar. She stared at the combination before slowly placing it back in the drawer. Her eyes returned to her reflection in the mirror finally focusing on the chain

with its ring that nestled securely in the V of her breasts. Her hand instinctively moved to it and she clasp the circle of gold in her hand. Someday she would finally be free of the promise the band signified, but that day hadn't yet come. Maybe it never would. She dropped her hand and wiped at the tear that slowly trickled down her cheek.

She climbed into bed and curled on her side with the ring clutched in her hand. She let her thoughts free and was not surprised when they winged back to a summer 10 years ago and a love that had filled her heart with happiness. She closed her eyes and once more felt strong arms around her and listened to the steady heartbeat in the broad chest she was held against. She listened to the rich voice that whispered of love in her ear _. 'Why, Ben? Why?'_

Sometimes these regrets were as bad as the pain and sorrow she had felt those first few years.

* * *

Soon after Ray dropped him off at his apartment, Ben took Diefenbaker for a walk. The small park down the street always seemed like a small oasis to the pair. This night was no different. Ben followed the paleness that was the wolf toward the stream and the trees that bordered the small waterway. He slid down the bank and seated himself on a rock where the stream pooled around an obstruction. He listened to the nocturnal sounds and let the strain ooze from his shoulders. He slowly rotated his head around and massaged the kinks in his neck. Who would have thought that dancing could create such tension?

Dief trotted up to the silent figure seated on the rock. *Woof* He turned, ready to sprint ahead.

"I'm sorry, Dief. I'm just not in the mood for a run right now."

*Woof* Dief returned to the figure and nudged the hand lying idle in the lap. His efforts were rewarded with a gentle rub and a good scratch behind the ears. Something was bothering Alpha Male and Dief would sit with him as he resolved this problem. He settled beside the Mountie and let the hand rub his head. He knew that the repetitive motion not only felt good to him but also, in some manner, benefited Alpha Male.

"I met a woman tonight, Dief." Dief's ear's perked up. "She reminded me of Phil McKenzie. Do you remember me telling you about her?"

Dief rolled his eyes. Of course he remembered. What did Alpha Male think he was? Deaf?

Ben continued talking to the patient wolf. "Her voice was low and husky, her smile crooked, but her hair smelled of lilacs, not lavender." He smiled down at the lupine face raised to his. "It couldn't have been her." His voice caught and he swallowed past the lump in his throat, his eyes taking on a faraway cast. "I wish it had been." Regret colored his thoughts and memories. He sighed. "You would have liked her, Dief." Ben gave the wolf's head a final pat then rose to his feet and the pair made their way back to his small apartment.

Sleep did not come easily or readily for the man on the small bed. He tossed and turned as he fought the memories his mind insisted on replaying. Realizing the futility of his struggles, he allowed his thoughts to follow the path they wanted to travel. He knew, that at the end of that trail, he would find soft brown eyes--the color of coffee, thick brown hair--smelling of lavender, and lips curved in a crooked smile--soft as velvet and tasting of chocolate and caramel. He eagerly ran down the trail to the woman that he could see waiting for him. As sleep captured him, he drew her into his arms and kissed those delicious lips that had once been his.

 

To be continued (?)

 

Copyright May 1997 by SL Haas

Revised June 1999

Comments are welcome at 

durango@ionet.net

Fraser’s Secret

(Book 1)

  1. On a Collision Course
  2. Nocturnal Duet
  3. Jumping to Conclusions
  4. "In the Kiss of One Girl"
  5. Real Conversations
  6. Icnites, Montmorillonite, and Bentonite, Oh My!
  7. An Acquired Taste
  8. "…a Dish Best Served Cold"
  9. Like Thunder When It Rains
  10. Steppingstones
  11. The First Consciousness
  12. An Answered Dream
  13. Since We Parted
  14. The Fine Line That Separates
  15. Moments of Regret
  16. Benton's Secret



 

 


End file.
